


Riding High

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018-2019 NHL Season, And Josty's thighs, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Roomies!, based off of tumblr, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23316043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: There’s a blush blazing across JT’s cheeks, down his neck and chest. A conflicting mixture of humiliation and arousal burns in his gut but his hands grip Tysons shoulders, tight enough to leave little crescent moons, and his hips move in little jerks, aborted movements like his body can’t quite decide what it wants.
Relationships: J. T. Compher/Tyson Jost
Comments: 5
Kudos: 129





	Riding High

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone is staying safe! Here's some porn to help us all get through this! 
> 
> The idea comes from a Tumblr ask I saw about Josty's thighs and this story expanded from that idea. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

The house is quiet around them, the kind of muffled silence that permeates the air mid afternoon with a lethargy that seeps into your bones and weighs you down. Kerfy had surrendered to it about an hour before, lazing about in the afternoon sun streaming through the front windows like a particularly smug cat before dragging himself up and off the couch, disappearing into his room with a half assed wave. 

They’re all tired, sore, from the game the previous day and the late night flight home. Customs had taken almost as long as the flight itself and by the end of it they’d been dragging their feet, gritty eyes held open by sheer determination. It’s hard to sleep in on their off days, their internal clocks hardwired to be up and ready to go- to the gym, to the arena, to practice- and so they’re back in Tysons room, taking advantage of an afternoon with absolutely nothing to do.

Sleep is the furthest thing from their minds.

“Come on baby,” Tysons hands slide down his bare back, over his ass, gripping tight and urging him forwards. “Yeah, just like that.”

There’s a blush blazing across JT’s cheeks, down his neck and chest. A conflicting mixture of humiliation and arousal burns in his gut but his hands grip Tysons shoulders, tight enough to leave little crescent moons, and his hips move in little jerks, aborted movements like his body can’t quite decide what it wants. 

“Take what you want.” The hands on his ass push and pull, get him into a rhythm that he’s helpless but to follow as his cock brushes against Tysons thick thigh, rubbing against silky gym shorts as they ride up and reveal hot, bare skin. He bites off a moan at the press against his balls, at the sight of the smear of precome his aching cock leaves against the dark material of Tysons shorts. 

His breath comes out in little hitches; he’s barely moving, lets Tyson do the work, control him, move him how he wants. JT braces himself and is rewarded with a wicked grin as he presses back into the touch, into the fingers biting into meat of his ass. His spine feels like liquid- hot and maleable and the only thing holding him up are his hands on Tysons shoulders and his hands on him urging him to fuck the bare skin of his thigh.

It’s no secret that Tysons got some of the best thighs on the team, or that JT watches, thinks about them sometimes when he’s jerking off, or when they’re fooling around in bed. Apparently Tyson had noticed. 

“God, you’re  _ gorgeous.” _ His lips are parted and swollen, as pink as his cheeks and JT can’t help but duck his head for a taste. They end up mostly breathing against each other’s mouth and JT can’t swallow back the moan that escapes him as the head of his cock catches on his shorts.

“Let me touch you?” He trails his hands down, whining in displeasure when Tyson lets go of his handfuls to catch his wrists.

“After.” He promises, trails his lips along the line of his jaw, nipping at the skin there. “Want to see you come for me first.” 

He pulls JT’s hands back up to his shoulders, pressing firmly, a silent instruction to keep them there. His cock jerks at the wave of heat that goes through him at that and he bites his lip, eyes fluttering shut.

“Keep going babe. Wanna see you fuck my thigh, can you do that for me?” JT nods helplessly, rolls his hips and groans at the sparks it sends along his spine.

Tysons hands disappear for a moment and he mourns the loss. There’s the snap of a lid and then a slick hand is wrapped around his cock. Tyson bites along his collarbone, keeping his strokes agonizingly slow, apparently with the sole purpose of driving him  _ crazy. _ He pulls his hand away, but only to grasp JT’s ass, working with him to rock his hips against him. 

It’s easier, most of the drag gone and replaced with the smooth slide. He manages to pry his heavy eyes open and finds Tyson already watching him, expression heated, possessive. He’s gorgeous, curls a mess, looking fucked out, cock tenting his shorts obscenely. JT’s mouth waters at the sight. 

He rocks his thigh up, pressing tight against JT’s balls on every roll of his hips and JT’s panting, cock leaking, feeling like he’s going to fly apart if he loses his white knuckle grip on Tyson. Moans fall from his lips, loud in the quiet of the room; the bedsprings creak, his movements taking on a sense of urgency as he grinds harder and faster against Tysons thigh. 

“Gonna come for me?” Tyson breathes and JT nods, tensing. He’s so  _ close, _ but it’s just out of reach. “Come on baby, you’re so pretty when you come. Get me all messy.” 

He keeps one hand on JT’s ass, urging him on, the other pressing his cock to Tysons thigh, thumb rubbing over the head and JT tenses and comes.

He shudders as his orgasm hits him like a brick, eyes clenched tight as he covers Tysons thigh and shorts in strip after strip of come. He’s left shivering in the aftermath, muscles liquid, brain mush, and he goes with it easily when Tyson tips him sideways onto the bed, tucks his shorts down under his balls and jerks off across JT’s chest.

“Fuck,” Tyson collapses next to him. JT manages to tilt his head enough to take in the sweet, pleased smile, summons up the energy to feel it pressed against his own lips. “You’re so fucking hot.” 

“Have you looked in a mirror?” JT huffs out a laugh. His limbs don’t quite feel like they’re attached anymore- tingling and floating. He sinks into the mattress happily. He cracks his eyes open as Tyson wipes them both down with a dirty t-shirt, tugging him in to cuddle together. Tyson throws an arm across his waist, slides a thigh between his own, and  _ oh. _ JT flushes at the heat that tries to pool in his stomach. 

Tyson arches an eyebrow at him, disturbingly in tune with JT’s body. The grin he gives him is lewd and full of promises. 

Sleep is a long time coming. 


End file.
